They said, “just leave it up to us.

What good is a god that you can’t trust?”

I am all that you have seen,

I am not the only one here.

They’ll fill the vents with ragged cloth

and bolt shut the trap door to the loft.

Kept safe from what we cannot know,

kept cold, and stable, and as still as stone.

Had you ever really tried?

And I strayed into a vile thought

the second I was forced awake

Out of a reeling frame of soaking smoke

that I grew into.

And we staved off every breath

and burning bush and holy ghost,

Then we measured him

and measured you

and measured every damn thing in the room.

That’s when we really saw ourselves

a collection of proportions

and irrational anxieties

But that won’t ever really do.

We cannot stay unsolved

and we will work ourselves to death

or perfect squares.